


Acts of Kindness

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [41]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Ianto's friends taking care of him, Kind of fluffy, day trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 12:22:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20930153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: Ianto explains to his friends why he tried to drown himself.  They extract a promise that he is reluctant to give.Luna asks Jack to keep Ianto busy the next Saturday so his friends can work on a surprise for him.





	Acts of Kindness

Ianto woke two hours later and, sitting on the floor with his friends surrounding him and a mug of tea in his hand, he set about telling them what had happened. He explained about feeling stuck in the portal and the certainty that it would destroy what was left of him. Then, with tears streaming, he spoke of the decision that had broken what was left of his heart.

He did not say that he already regretted the decision. He didn’t have to, really. They could see his ambivalence as he told them that the portal was now closed. They could practically feel his desolation and despair as he said he’d never see Lisa or their child again.

“Ianto, I get why you did it,” Neville said, “I do. But you can’t just…” he trailed off with a huff.

Neville was sitting beside him, and Ianto reached out and took his hand. “I’m sorry, Neville. I shouldn’t have done that to you. I just… I was desperate, see.” 

“We know, and we’re not angry. But Ianto… _please_,” Neville squeezed his hand. “Please promise us you’ll stop trying to kill yourself.”

Ianto was silent so long they were all convinced that he could not bring himself to make such a commitment. It was clear that he was struggling, not wanting to hurt them, but not wanting to make the promise, either. But some sense of obligation must have won out, because after several minutes his shoulder’s slumped. “I’ll do my best, yeah?”

It was the best they could hope for, in the circumstances. They all moved in for a hug.

When they sat away from him again, he let go of Neville’s hand, his chin wobbling. “But you’re right, I think. I shouldn’t have…” He broke down.

Neville embraced Ianto. “You did the right thing, Nif,” he cried with his friend. Ianto flailed a moment, then clutched at Neville’s shirt, weeping, but shaking his head.

When he calmed, he sat away from Neville, blowing his nose on a handkerchief he pulled from the pocket of his hoodie. In the hub, Jack smiled at the incongruity. It summed up what he knew of this young man who could brawl with a Weevil and then return to the hub to be the perfect valet or butler. Jack had the feeling that Ianto was a bit of rough, but he had polished all of his own edges with a great deal of care, hoping to make himself more than what the world had told him he could be. 

***

Another week passed, and this time, it was more clear that Ianto was slowly mending. Jack still visited every few days, taking Ianto for walks (his anxiety level was through the roof the day Ianto decided to walk along the Taff) or to the pub for lunch or dinner, as he began to regain his health.

Jack was continually appalled at just how unwell Ianto had become. Anxiety and stress (and an unhealthy amount of caffeine) had been the only things that had kept the young man on his feet, and Jack repeatedly punished himself by watching the CCTV footage that Toshiko had compiled showing the progression from the relatively healthy young man who had joined Torchwood Three to the frail waif who fought so hard to save his love.

Ianto was beginning to eat a bit more than what Jack considered to be bird-sized portions, and he was engaging more with the world around him. He still didn’t have all that much to say, but he was making an effort. One afternoon when they returned to the flat from lunch and a walk, Luna asked Jack if he could occupy Ianto for the day, that upcoming Saturday. As Toshiko had reported just that morning that they would have a few slow days coming up, he readily agreed.

Before he left, he mentioned to Ianto that he had to check out some items he’d heard about in some junk shops in Swansea, and asked the younger man if he was up for an outing that weekend. Ianto hesitated a moment, seeming unsure of himself, but then agreed.

Jack picked Ianto up on that Saturday morning, and almost immediately Owen called, saying all of the cameras in Ianto’s flat had gone offline. Jack assured him that it was all right, and casually mentioned that he and Ianto were headed to Swansea. When he hung up, he found something soothing on the radio and turned it down so it would not interfere with conversation.

“How are you feeling?” he asked tentatively.

“Better,” Ianto squirmed a bit, but then settled back into the seat with a sigh. “Stronger.” He shook his head. “I hadn’t realized how run-down I’d become. Made me tired. And weak.”

Jack hummed his acknowledgement of the statement. Then, before he could think about the words, they escaped from his lips. “I’m sorry we didn’t notice.” He winced. “I’m sorry _I _didn’t notice, Ianto.”

“That was the point, Jack,” Ianto shrugged, and Jack hated how easily the younger man dismissed himself. “You weren’t meant to.”

Jack shook his head, but Ianto interrupted him before he could speak. “Jack, I know you regret your behavior, but you really didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who…” he trailed off, biting his lip as he looked out of the window.

Jack pulled over and turned to Ianto. “Let’s get one thing straight right now, Ianto. Because of our anger at Hartman, we dismissed you, and allowed you to disappear. That was… That is _very_ wrong. It’s not how you treat a friend, or a teammate, and it’s not how I want any team of mine to behave.” He took Ianto’s hand, and the younger man looked at him, slightly startled. “I’ve forgiven you, Ianto. We all have.” He hoped that was true of Gwen. He was certain of Toshiko and Owen. “But we need your forgiveness, as well.”

Ianto looked slightly exasperated as great, fat tears began rolling down his cheeks. He swiped at them impatiently. “You have it. Of course you have it. Jack…” The rest of his words were smothered by Jack’s hug. He held onto the young man for several minutes, allowing the storm to pass.

As he sat back, Jack brushed away one of the tears. “Hey, don’t be mad about the tears. They mean you’re healing, right?”

Ianto nodded, leaning back and taking out a handkerchief. “It seems to come in waves,” he said quietly. “I just never know when one will hit me.”

“The waves will get smaller, and less frequent,” Jack promised, putting the SUV in gear and pulling back onto the road.

They had a pleasant day in Swansea. There were several junk shops that Jack routinely checked. They went to two in the morning, and actually found a few things, in each. Then they had lunch in a lovely restaurant overlooking the water, and Jack was pleased to see Ianto eating most of his meal, with something akin to relish.

After lunch they visited the third shop, and then they lingered, wandering the area. Ianto didn’t seem to mind – this was the first day in almost three weeks that he had not been cooped up in his flat for most of the day. Much to Jack’s delight, he kept poking into little bookshops. He seemed to look longingly at a first edition of Agatha Christie’s _Murder of Roger Ackroyd_ that was in beautiful condition, but he gave himself a shake and with a frown, walked away.

Jack sighed. It wasn’t the price tag that had discouraged Ianto. The younger man did not feel he deserved such a treat. Jack found it heartbreaking. As Ianto left the shop to wander further down, Jack found a lovely first edition of Christie’s _Come, Tell Me How You Live_. He considered it a steal, at less than thirty pounds, and purchased it, asking that it be shipped to a private post box in Cardiff that he used for personal mail.

He left the store, feeling pleased with himself. He knew from _Roger Ackroyd_ that Ianto was a Christie fan, but he also knew the younger man would never accept such a costly gift from him. But the more modestly priced autobiographical book was less likely to have been read, and more likely to be accepted. Not today, though, he knew.

He bought them each a ninety-nine, which seemed to embarrass Ianto until Jack pretty much forced him to admit that he didn’t like ice cream, as it gave him headaches. He was pink at the ears as he smiled his thanks for the thought and plucked the Flake bar from the treat, eating it as he handed the cone back to Jack to either devour or throw away.

Jack grinned and tossed the cone, but then plucked the Flake from his own dessert and handed it to Ianto. The shy smile was all the reward he could ask for.

They wandered out and walked along the sea for a while. Ianto stared at the horizon for so long, so lost in thought that Jack wasn’t sure how to bring him back. But then the younger man blinked and gave himself a shake and told Jack he’d seen a coffee shop where they could warm up.

They headed back to Cardiff late in the afternoon, and Jack invited Ianto to dinner before dropping him off. He was surprised but delighted when the younger man accepted the invitation. Over dinner, Ianto admitted that he was fairly certain his friends were up to something, at his flat. Jack laughed at the younger man’s astuteness and admitted that he had no part in the scheme, other than heeding Luna’s suggestion that he take Ianto out for the day.

“And I’m rather glad I did,” he grinned. Even a quiet and deeply grieving Ianto had been incredibly good company. Jack couldn’t remember a more pleasant day, in a long time.

Ianto gave that shy smile, again. “Thank you, Sir. I’ve enjoyed being out in the open. It feels almost…” his smile faded, and he swallowed hard, looking away.

“Hey,” Jack reached out and took Ianto’s hand. “Don’t feel guilty for living, Ianto. All those who are gone? They’d want you to live. To thrive. Like I said, the way to honor them is by carrying on. Living well, not curling up and withering away.”

Ianto swallowed again and nodded. He squeezed Jack’s hand, and Jack reluctantly released it. 

When they arrived back at Ianto’s flat, he invited Jack to come up for a cup of coffee and to see what his friends had done. Jack chuckled and made Ianto promise to at least act surprised.

“Even if I hate it?” Ianto asked, wide-eyed. “I’m not that good an actor,” he shook his head ruefully and Jack almost swallowed his tongue as Ianto headed for the stairs.

_Seriously?_ Then Jack realized. It hadn’t been acting, for Ianto. There had been truth in everything he had done. The truth of his loyalty to Lisa had led every pretense, and it had not been an act. It was a revelation, and Jack felt something loosen in his chest – the small anxiety that their friendship really had been a fraud – and it faded.

As they entered Ianto’s flat, the younger man stopped dead in the middle of the doorway. The walls were painted, there were throw rugs on the floor, bookcases were arranged, his television was set up, though it still wasn’t hooked up, and everything, it seemed, had been unpacked.

Ianto was clearly struggling to take it all in. Jack figured that if the smallest act of kindness (like a crummy ninety-nine) had floored him, this must be completely overwhelming. 

“I…” he looked around and sniffed.

Within seconds, Luna was in his arms, and he sobbed onto her shoulder for a moment before collecting himself. “Thank you,” he said quietly, when she finally released him. “It’s…” he looked around, wide-eyed, “it’s perfect.”

He wandered through the rooms, looking. The kitchen was painted a bright, happy yellow, which contrasted with the black countertops in homage to his house colors. The living room was a gorgeous shade of eggplant, set off by the throw rugs and the lighter upholstery of the chairs and sofa. A pair of chairs and ottoman with a small accent table between them sat before the fireplace. Standing back-to-back to the chairs was the sofa, which faced the television that had been set up on the wall shared with the kitchen.

One either side of the fireplace were the bookshelves, showing what Jack saw to be a fairly impressive collection of books. The TV stand included shelving holding his DVD’s and CD’s. Cerridwen’s perch had been left in the corner by the window. Ianto was just waiting for Jack to ask about it, but he didn’t.

The bedroom was a soothing shade of blue-grey that blended well with his bedding. He blinked as he realized that the color was the same shade as Jack’s greatcoat, but he did not say anything. He sent a raised eyebrow Luna’s way, but she merely blinked at him. “I like it,” Jack grinned, not seeing the interaction, but clearly approving of a color scheme he had long ago adopted for his wardrobe.

Ianto looked around, frowning. There had been several boxes of Lisa’s things. He did not see them, now. Before he could ask about them, Luna said, “Your friends Toshiko and Owen came by and took Lisa’s boxes. They said that you know where they’ll be stored, and Toshiko gave me this,” she handed him a key. “You can have access to them any time, but they won’t be here weighing on you before you’re ready to go through them.”

Ianto nodded. It was a thoughtful gesture, but at the same time, having Lisa’s things taken away while he wasn’t looking _hurt_. He hadn’t realized it, but he had wrapped his arms around his midsection, holding tightly in hopes of keeping himself from flying apart. His study of a spot on the carpet in the middle distance was interrupted by Luna’s voice.

“I can call them, if you’d like. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind bringing the boxes back.”

He finally dragged his eyes to Luna’s, and saw that she had a hand on his arm, and Jack had a hand on his shoulder. He realized that he had just checked out for a moment. He could feel Jack’s concern, and he could tell that Luna was terrified that they had made a mis-step. He blinked, and in that moment called on every power he might ever have possessed and used to bluff Torchwood, and he lied to his best friend’s face.

“It’s fine, Luna. And you’re right. Probably better, this way.”

Luna beamed and hugged him before turning away, telling him she thought he’d like what they did with the bathroom. He dragged in a breath and felt Jack squeezing his shoulder.

“You’re a good friend, Ianto, but I think right now you should be taking care of yourself, for a change.”

“They’re just some boxes, Jack. Luna and the others are more important.”

Jack sighed and let him walk away.

Ianto peeked into the bathroom, which had not escaped the painting frenzy. The black and white ceramic tiles were nicely offset by deep red walls, and his fluffy towel collection had been expanded to include handsome grey towels that went nicely with the color scheme.

He made his way back to the living room, poking his head into the guest bedroom and seeing it was a neutral shade of taupe. Back in the living room, his friends were practically bouncing with excitement. Jack noticed that there were at least a dozen people there, and he could understand how they had achieved such a tremendous amount of work, in only one day.

“I love it,” Ianto grinned at them, and they all crowded around for hugs.

The one called Seamus handed Jack a bag containing Torchwood’s five cameras. “We didn’t put them back up,” he spoke bluntly, but there was a spark of humor in his eyes.

“Noted,” Jack answered dryly. He stood back and watched as Ianto spoke to his friends. He wasn’t sure what he was meant to do now, but he felt surplus to requirements. He looked down at the cameras in his hands, frowning. Should he remount them?

He wanted to trust Ianto, but he was so afraid of losing the young Welshman, he wasn’t sure how he could. He’d lost count of the number of suicide attempts. He looked up when he felt a hand on his arm.

“He made a promise,” Luna said in a low voice. “He’ll keep it.”

“And how do I live with myself, if he finds he can’t?” Jack kept his eyes on the bag, unable to meet her gaze.

“He’s stronger than you think,” she replied.

Jack huffed out a laugh. “Then he’s stronger than I can imagine.”

Luna’s eyebrows went up, and Jack shrugged.

“I know he’s strong,” he admitted. “But there are limits.”

“But honor endures, even when strength fails,” she smiled.

Jack thought she might be a bit naïve, but then he realized. She knew Ianto better than he did. They had exacted that promise, and it had been grudgingly given. He nodded again. “Was that fair, do you think?”

“I don’t feel the need to fight fair, when it comes to the lives of my friends,” she said simply. “He’ll hate us in the coming months, but he’ll thank us in the coming years.”

“Jack,” Ianto interrupted their conversation. “Can I be off probation, please?” he asked earnestly, eyeing the bag of cameras. “Maybe leave the one for the living room, or you’ll never hear the end of it, from Owen. But I’d very much like to not be on camera in my bedroom and bathroom.” He shuddered. “I can feel you all watching me sleep.”

Jack goggled at him. “You’re actually willing to keep a camera up?” He was too surprised by the beginning of Ianto’s request to pay much heed to the ending.

Ianto shrugged. “Haven’t exactly invited trust, have I? Call it an olive branch, with a special request, for good behavior.” He shrugged, and there was a wicked gleam in his eye as he added, “After all, it’s been ten whole days since I tried to top myself.”

Jack laughed. How could he not? Torchwood’s modus operandi was gallows humor. It’s all that got them through, some days. That Ianto was making the attempt meant more than he could say. He noticed that the others didn’t appreciate the joke, and Jack understood now Ianto’s hope that they never would.

He saw Ianto’s half smile, and it warmed him that it was genuine. But then Jack turned serious. “Your word, Ianto. I need your word that I won’t regret this.”

Ianto looked confused. “What does my word even mean to you, Sir?” he asked, his honesty scathing.

“More than you think.”

“You have it, then.”

Jack reached out his hand, and they shook on it. He remounted the camera, marveling at how quickly the paint had dried. Then again, it had been a while since he’d painted a room. His mind slid quickly away from Melissa’s nursery and he finished up as quickly as he could. He asked for a raincheck on the coffee, then said his goodbyes.

He was on the landing when Ianto called to him. “Jack!”

“Ianto?”

“Thank you. For today.” There was that shy smile again, and gods and goddesses help him, Jack was becoming hooked on it.

“You’re welcome, Ianto,” he returned Ianto’s smile with one of his own, and he knew Ianto recognized it as the most sincere expression he could muster.

***


End file.
